8.
Nick didn’t leave right away.
Maybe he should have, but he needed to know Aubrey was warm. Since he refused to hover in her yard like some kind of creepy stalker, he backed his truck out to the cul-de-sac, then parked along the curb. There. Now he could only see the same thing as every other passerby out walking their dog.
On the other side of the bay windows, Aubrey stood at her fireplace, staring down. Probably thinking about what an asshole he was. Which apparently required a lot of contemplation, because she didn’t move for a long time. Neither did he.
He knew when the house started to thaw, because she finally left the room and reappeared looking ten years younger, her fancy clothes swapped out for flannel pajamas, half her hair pulled up and her makeup wiped away.
Fuck, she looked beautiful. Vulnerable, too, and in the most unapologetic of ways, like the girl he remembered.
He wished she’d felt comfortable showing him that side of herself, but of course she hadn’t. Especially not after he’d fucked everything up by telling her he didn’t regret what he’d done.
He groaned. That was the most brutal question she could have asked. The same one that had rotted inside him for half his life.
But he’d forced an honest answer, because Aubrey deserved that much. So, yes, while he despised having hurt her with an intensity that sickened him, no, he wouldn’t undo it. Hecouldn’t, because it had ultimately brought Paige into existence. And his daughter was his life, his whole world. His single greatest contribution to planet Earth.
He just wished Aubrey had let him explain. There was still so much she didn’t understand, things he’d never gotten the chance to tell her.
Inside, she lay down on the blue-upholstered antique couch. His fists tightened around the steering wheel as he imagined himself still in there, pulling her head onto his lap, stroking her hair until she fell asleep. He fantasized about murmuring to her as she dreamed, telling her that underneath the slick city polish, he still saw the same girl he’d fallen in love with. A woman with passion and heart. Someone destined to achieve greatness, one equation at a time.
A telltale heat invaded the back of his eyes, which he scrubbed away. Fuck, he probably should’ve just lied to her. Maybe then she would’ve let him hold her again. Granted him another moment of euphoria like the one in front of the fireplace, when she’d cried and sought comfort in his arms.
That had felt incredible, even more so because he’d expected her to shove him away. When she hadn’t, every cell in his body had screamed not to let go, to never let her go. Then the urge to point out where they were had nearly overcome him. For that brief, exultant moment, they’d sat in the exact place in which they’d traded their virginities to each other on what Nick still considered the best night of his life.
His phone chimed in his back pocket. With a grumble, he pulled it out, anticipating a text from Jackson or Tansy, but the notification brought him to a browser page he didn’t recognize.
He squinted, then did a double take. MontanaBirder81 had just signed up for his love-letter-writing service. Which meant four hundred dollars, in the bank.
A message icon blinked at the top of the screen. He clicked.
Hi Nick,
How lucky that I came across your ad this evening. I’ve been looking for a service like yours, but haven’t found it anywhere else. I’m hoping you can help me.
Here’s the story. There’s a woman who just moved back to Billings after spending a couple decades away. We went to high school together, but back then, I never got up the courage to act on my feelings. Now’s my second chance, and I don’t want to screw it up.
Thing is, she’s the love-letter type, but I don’t trust myself to do it right. She’s high-class and needs a soft touch, nothing too forward.
Think you can help?
John
A harsh laugh erupted from Nick’s chest, sending a silvered jet into the chill of the truck. An old flame from high school had shown up and thrown this guy into a tailspin? The fuck? The universe was clearly flipping him the middle finger right now. Even while helping him out.
He tapped Reply.
Hi John,
Thanks for the booking, and for the vote of confidence. I can definitely help. What kind of letter are you looking for first, and what about this woman entices you?
Nick
He clicked Send and glanced up. Inside, Aubrey looked to be sleeping. Her skin glowed like abalone in the firelight. Even from here, he could tell how soft it was, could trace the way her nose turned charmingly upward at the tip.
She would probably never speak to him again.
His phone buzzed.
